


The Price of Freedom

by masamune11



Series: intersecting paths [3]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Heavy Theory, M/M, Supernatural Elements, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4559349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/pseuds/masamune11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dream recurred, though he was unsure for how many times it happened. In every occurrence, Mikoto died by his hands, with the manner of his death being different from one dream to another. He was impaled by Reishi's sword (again) at his stomach on his second, burned by his own power (and Reishi's inability to stop him) on his third, killed himself with Reishi's saber (again, due to his own inability to prevent him) on his fourth.</p><p>On his fifth time and after, Reishi couldn't care less and delivered the final blow himself—<i>out of rage</i>.</p><hr/><p>He was on his way through his grieving stages when Mikoto's presence change things—for the worse.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>[ Set before '365 days' and in parallel with 'brave soldier boy, comes marching home' ]</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say except _I'm sorry--for posting a potential angst_.
> 
> Oh, also that the title of this fic is based on this [song](https://youtu.be/MOJ91H4mraU?list=RDMOJ91H4mraU).
> 
> Unbeta'ed until further notice.
> 
> TIPS: I've put links on several lines in the which will lead you to related chapter of stories within this series. Don't hesitate to use it and have fun :")

Not many knew that Reishi Munakata was secretly a lucid dreamer, but this was to be expected. He did not have much experience with dreams, thus the number of occurrences that he could confide to someone (his friend, or maybe his coworkers) was little, if any. However, just because the occurrences themselves were limited, it certainly did not impede his ability to recognise a dream in one look, for _Mikoto Suoh had died._

When he gazed at the grey sky hanging over his head, the red-haired standing with his back faced at the Blue King, Reishi knew that he was in a dream. After all, he did not only end Mikoto Suoh's life with his hands; those same hands spread half of his ashen remains to the sea. There would never be another Mikoto Suoh walking in this world, for he had ensured his death.

(HOMRA wouldn't let the Blue King have the full honor, to the point that its vanguard almost leapt at him for his offense. Yet all the members needed was an acknowledgement from their second-in-command, telling him face-to-face that it was alright to share the honour—as though past turmoils between Red and Blue clans did not matter to him. Reishi found himself eternally grateful to the man in purple shade for his kind gesture).

Red head turned to face him, golden eyes glinting with acceptance and thin lips mouthing forgiveness _over and over and over_ —

Reishi closed his eyes and felt the other’s power rising to the point of no return, knowing so well how this scene will end. As the Slate’s power brought the end of Mikoto Suoh closer, so will the end for himself and the people whom he was tasked to protect. Despite the danger he faced, he would take up his sword and make his stance, because _he would not tolerate chaos in this sanctuary—_ _for his cause is pure._

Reishi’s body moved on its own as though he had committed each and every kata to memory. The thoughts that he actually remembered the steps to kill Mikoto made his insides squirm. Compounded with the feeling of Mikoto's slack body limping on his own, his hands grasping frantically to steady his form, Reishi held his breath. _Just let this pass,_ he secretly wished, so that he would not be tempted to turn his face and gaze at those golden eyes. Did it shine in face of death? Would that shine slowly slipped out like water drying out in the sun?

Mikoto whispered in his ears the words he had known and then grew too slack. He had lived through this; he can survive this dream.

( _He cannot believe that Mikoto’s dead_.)

Reishi closed his eyes and let the world sweep him out from that silver meadow, the embers of curiosity burning within him with questions: what was the last expression that etched the Red King's cocky face? Was it unbridled satisfaction, or gnawing regret?

He shut his eyes close as soon as he opened them afterwards, finding the plafon of his dark room discomforting. The flame of his curiosity only served to further his own despair, for he yearned an answer from 'what ifs’ that can never be.

* * *

The dream recurred, though he was unsure for how many times it happened. In every occurrence, Mikoto died by his hands, with the manner of his death being different from one dream to another. He was impaled by Reishi's sword (again) at stomach on his second, burned by his own power (and Reishi's inability to stop him) on his third, killed himself with Reishi's saber (again, due to his own inability to prevent him) on his fourth.

On his fifth dream and after, Reishi couldn't care less and delivered the final blow himself— _o_ _ut of rage._

( _They were Kings who ruled and decided matters for others. Mikoto should have known better than pushing him to this point, should have taken the other way out, should have dropped his bloody vengeance and let him clean up the mess. Maybe then he would save him the grief._ )

As he felt the last of Mikoto’s life leaving his body, Reishi’s world crumbled, his room reformed around him in swirls of grays. He would start the day with a choked sigh, an anger still brewing within his bosoms before his personal ice encroached his heart. By the time morning sun greeted his window, he was already the perfect captain.

(But with each day passing, his anger slowly turned into a hollowness, dragging his feet into whirlpool of despair.)

* * *

Something turned out different in his most recent dream.

He still carried with him his resentment towards the red-haired man, though part of it was tainted with desperation (to his shame). But he only needed rage to carry that task; he only needed to hate Mikoto long enough until _his frame turned slack and dropped dead_ on the snow-filled ground. Then, when all of his rage left him, the hollowness would return in full force, driving Reishi to his knees in _guilt, sorrow, and despair_.

That was when the anomaly started.

Reishi was always alone inside his dream. His dream Mikotowas undeniably the construct of his mind, and yet, he could faintly feel someone intruding his sleep—a flicker of blue flame around the edge of his vision. It called for him, like a missing piece of puzzle trying to fit in the bigger picture; like a child drawing closer to their mother.

(Like a heart trying to get back.)

Someone was standing before Mikoto’s corpse; someone with that familiar baritone voice that made him flinch because _he was dead, he stabbed him too many times to count, he **cannot** —_

_"[Muna—Reishi, get a hold of yourself!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4459706/chapters/10261329#bravesoldier1)"_

_—be here, looking at him with those golden eyes devoid of life._  

"...This is just a dream,” he denied numbly, violet still widened as he gazed at those golden eyes and re-commited them to his memory. These were the eyes which he was too scared to look at when its owner’s eyes slipped away. "When I close my eyes, you will still be dead."

Those golden eyes softened for a moment, and Reishi wanted to confirm that _this was no construct—_ that, _in some twisted ways_ , _maybe this was not a dream_. So Reishi reached out to him like a drowning man, the words he wanted to say threatening to overflow. Yet the only thing that Reishi could manage was, “you’re… really here?"

A light-hearted cocky smile. "No thanks to you.”

That was the final confirmation.

Trembling, he pulled the dead Red King and buried his face on his white shirt.Mikoto still smelled of cigars and fire, even with his hand tracing his back soothingly. This was the man who had driven him to _insanity of his inner world_ ; this was the man who made him realise that _he could not survive if he were to leave him alone again, right there and then—_

“Reishi, let me go in peace."

—and the illusion of peace shattered. In that one moment, that perfect (hollow) Reishi Munakata was back, along with his secret rage.He refused his pleas at the drop of a hat. How dared this man urge him to release him, when he had come back? How dared he, after recurrence of torment that he had to endure, ask of him this when he could make Mikoto stay with him _forever_?

(That blue spark in Mikoto’s hand was his. _Mikoto was his._ )

Mikoto had chosen to live by his selfish decision then. Now it was his turn.

“I love you so much that I can't let you leave."

He could never let go.

* * *

“[Time to wake up, little Blue King. _Little protector_.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4459706/chapters/10301265#bravesoldier1)"

Every part of his body _hurt_ at her words. Then again, those silver beams piercing his body were quickly pulled out by some invisible hands. Blood gushed out of his system, and for one terrifying moment, he really thought that this landscape was a reality; a reality where Mikoto Suoh _was there_. But that blue presence was not within that landscape anymore, though the blue aura brewing at the back of his mind notified him that it was still  _there—_ a sign that _Mikoto was somewhere._ That meant he existed, and nothing else mattered.

Those invisible hands slowly hoisted his aching body suspended in the air. Only later he realised that those were silver threads, strong enough to hold him in the air. He raised his face with difficulty, finding the white-haired _witch_ standing condescendingly. “You are selfish."

Reishi refused to be one-sidedly patronised and rebuked, “I did what I need to do. With Mikoto as a part of my clan, he will stay.”  _with me_. _The witch mattered not._

It was fascinating to see such vacant expression broke down into anger, “you are dooming _both him and yourselves,_ Fourth King. Do you even realise the extent of your decision? Mikoto Suoh can never pass on, _even if you die with him_."

He wanted to say that, no, _it couldn’_ _t be—_ that this woman, who blithesomely intruded into his personal torment, was lying. His smug-pained look quickly turned into that of anger-denial, “…who are you to decide this?"

But the woman only looked at him, those eyes being quickly drained of emotion as silver turned multi-color. In that single moment, he was one _and_ everyone; he was Anna Kushina at the corner of HOMRA, he was Nagare Hisui inside his bunker, and he was Yashiro Isana on his blimp at the same time. He looked through the eyes of Genji Kagutsu who wished for his friend to end his fate, he felt how Jin Habari’s resolve faltered when he was forced to do the deed and after that, relief when Zenjou Gouki brought him the end.

He felt Mikoto’s peaceful sigh, his last thoughts revolving around the new Red King, before finally setting on  _‘thank you_ _’;_ Mikoto’s grumbles during his journey to sever their (forced) bond so that he could pass on; Mikoto’s insistence to _stay in the world because_ Reishi  _unknowingly needed his presence._

He was ashamed.

Multi-color returned to silver; Reishi was himself again as the truth dawned on him.The woman’s vacant expression broke down into that of tired smile, “I am the Slate’s proxy. I am your judge, jury, and executioner—and I consider your decision _unwise_."

What she said was the truth. It turned that hollowness within himself into resignation and guilt. “Is there…”, his quiet words turned strained, “is there a way to fix this…?"

She looked at him carefully, the power working behind her shifting as she considered her next words, as she finally broke the silence between them, “there is… but with a condition. And a price."

“Name it."  _There can be no hesitation about this_ —not when Mikoto’s fate lied on his decision.

“The Slate can only accept those who are pure to their way—to their ideals. By accepting your forced invitation, you have tainted his ‘violence’ with ‘order’, despite his noble goal. Such bond can not be washed away, unless a new King is chosen at the end of the old King’s life and the other accepted that their bond is finished."

His silver eyes glinted with meaning, her silvery hold over him slowly weakening as Reishi’s form slowly descended unto the ground. His brain was having a hard time to process her statements only because _he already had an idea on what he must pay._

“Do you understand me, Blue King? The price is your life. The condition will be Mikoto’s acceptance of your death. If you can give me both, then I shall do in my power to push him to move on, even if I have to go against the Slate to do so."

A deep breath, a definite resolve, and a forlorn smile.  _There is no hesitation—only peace._

“I accept." 


End file.
